Paranormals
by Metagalactic
Summary: Back in the days when Gil Grissom was a ghost. Will be in two parts, but as of now I'm only writing the first one. Title will probably change A LOT. WIP.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own the plot. Don't own the characters, but as far as I know the ideas are mine. So dun steal 'em.

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The office was a place that most high-school students made a point to avoid. Gilbert Grissom, however, was not most students, and he volunteered there for his study hall. He generally filed papers, since the first half of the day was spent handling late students, and they always had notes and needed passes to class and all that. The three secretaries loved that Gil was there to lessen their workload, and they loved having him around. He did a fair job at keeping them entertained with how intelligent he was, and they'd spend entire periods quizzing him, getting an office-wide trivia game going. It always ended when the old principal would walk in, her skin wrinkled unimaginably, her outfits hideous, and she smelled like embalming fluids. Honestly, Gil wasn't sure why she was still alive. But she was.

He wasn't a particularly popular student, even as a senior. Nobody liked the shy, smart kid who hid in the back of the room, refusing to raise his hand. The teachers allowed him to do that because they knew that he knew the answers, he just didn't want to call attention to himself. At the beginning of the school years, they would try, but by the time interim reports went out, they had learned to not bother. Group work was horrible for him, and he usually let his teammates chatter amongst himself while he did all the work. They'd get the highest grade in the class and they would boast about their smarts, but Gil would just smile, not needing the recognition of being the smart one to know that he was the smart one. He had no desire of friends, because they just got in the way of his studies.

Short fingers were flying over the papers in the huge box in front of him, alphabetizing them with out a word to himself. A little smile had been on his face, but when the questioning had stopped, he'd gone right back to his work.

"Oh, I got one for you, Gil!" One of the secretaries called, and that amused smile returned to his round face. Sighing, he looked up from the box, adjusting his weight a bit in the uncomfortable chair.

"I'm listening, Ms. Miller." He replied, waiting for her to read some trivia question she had gotten from looking something up in a text book. Too bad he had read all of them already, and thus would disappoint her game by knowing the answer.

"Chemistry this time. Kay… What is the at…atomic mass..? of….hm… Mercury?" She choose the element with a flourish, and Gil sighed, shaking his head.

"200.59, Ms. Miller." He replied with out hesitation that could be marked, and in the beat of silence, he had to keep from laughing. He didn't have to see them to know that the other two were staring at her, watching her stare at the book, which would show that exact number to her.

"Palladium." She quipped, butchering the pronunciation of it, but he smiled still.

"106.42."

"Calcium."

"40.078." Silence now, and he chuckled to himself, going back to the filing. They had yet to find a question that stumped him, and while they were irritated with that, he knew that they appreciated the break from constant filing to wonder over just how he had memorized all that.

"What is the atomic number of Lithium?" A different secretary's voice reached his ears, and he sighed softly, shaking his head.

"Three, Mrs. Haus."

"What element is number 42?"

"Molybdenum."  
"Where do I go to sign in?" He blinked hard, confused at the odd question. Rising from the chair and setting his box aside, he moved to the door of the room of filing cabinets and peeked into the hall.

The sight that met his eyes made him feel rather stupid- a student had come in late and asked a secretary where to go. He hadn't been paying attention to the voices directing questions, and had nearly made himself look like a total idiot. Gil made to turn and just go back into the room when the student's steel-like gaze flicked to him, and he was paralyzed there.

She was probably one of the most beautiful creatures he had ever seen, and that was saying a lot for a young man who dissected things from the ocean and collected dead butterflies. Incredibly soft looking hair that was the prettiest shade of dark red he could think of hung down her back, reaching about the middle of her back. Her skin was pale, and totally free of freckles. She wasn't tall, really, but he thought it was her clothing that set her aside from all of the other girls who came in late.

Head to toe, she was dressed in black. Not an uncommon thing- there were plenty of gothic students, but for some reason, seeing that kind of clothing on someone as gorgeous as her made it seem different. It was still warm outside, but she had on a heavy looking black over-coat. It had been unbuttoned, though, and he could see a very tight, almost corset-like top under a whispy black scarf thing that was curled around her neck. A black skirt hung down to her ankles, and he could only guess that the black boots she was wearing hugged her calves, reaching to her knees.

As though she was trying to tease him, she shrugged the heavy coat off, draping it over a pale arm. Her wrists were covered in bracelets, some silver, some black, and he was honestly surprised (though glad) that her hair hadn't been died black.

His lips were parted a bit, and he knew that he should stop staring. He should really, really stop staring.

"Gil can take you back to your counselor's office and you'll get signed in." And the secretary may as well have punched him in the gut. Snapping his jaw shut, the young man cleared his throat and stepped forward, hands pushing into his pockets.

"Are you a freshman?" He croaked, though he knew that she had to be. He would have noticed someone like her walking around in the halls if he had seen her.

"Yes." Her voice was low and throaty, and it made Gil shiver, but he nodded at her and turned.

"Follow me, then." As he started to walk, she reached out and slid her hand out to rest against the hook of his left elbow, her dark red lips parting in a smile.

The walk down the hall felt like the longest of his life, with her walking impossibly close to him, so close that his mouth was dry and her smell felt like it was strangling him. He hadn't a clue what it was, but it was steadily torturing him, becoming like a drug that he knew he would miss horribly when she left his side.

"In here…" He mumbled when they finally reached the door, and her hand slid away from his arm. Grissom felt the slow drag of her nails, and he was immensely thankful he was wearing a long sleeved shirt, or that feeling would have driven him up a wall.

"Thanks." Was her simple reply, and then she disappeared into the office, leaving him to realize that his fear had come true. Her scent wafted away, leaving him feeling hollow and worthless and stupid, just gaping after her.

Slowly, he turned, walking back up the hall and disappearing with out a word to the secretaries to his filing room. He didn't feel the uncomfortable chair as he sank onto it, pulling the box into his lap and going back to alphabetizing.

This was going to be a very long day.

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A/N: I have this story all mapped out on cards 'n stuff. It may be a little slow since I've got school 'n stuff, but I'll try to update regularly.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Woo. A bunch of cliches, but hey, every story needs some. I'm disappointed that I haven't had reviewers... do you guys not like this one?

Well, even if you don't I'm going to write it, because it sounds great to me. So mleh.

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The files had continued and so had the daily questions of those secretaries, who became more baffled by Gil every day. That girl had been in too, and it seemed that getting to school on time was nearly an impossibility for her. She didn't need him to walk her down the hall anymore, but she always stopped and looked in at him, and he would feel her iron-like gaze on his back for several long minutes before she would speak quietly. Usually, it was no more than "good morning, Gil", to which he would reply with his own greeting. The difference was that he still did not know her name.

That is, he didn't know it until the day they brought her down to the office from her English class. She was hysterical, refusing to speak to the secretaries as they probed her for information. At least, that's what he found out later. He got there second period, and she had been there since half way through first.

He hadn't looked at her, not wanting her to be embarrassed by his noticing that she was seated in the nurse's office looking like she'd emptied the entire contents of her stomach and then some. But, as he headed for his filing room, he was very suddenly pushed up against a wall, a pair of thin arms coiled around his waist. The motion seemed to bring about more tears, and she pressed her face into his chest, crying loudly. The eighteen year old just stood there, eyes wide and fixed on the nurse, who made an encouraging motion with her hands.

Swallowing hard, he rested a hand against her back, his other arm wrapping about her waist, which he found to be shockingly thin.

And then, as though these women knew precisely what he was incapable of, they had him take her into the nurse's office, and they shut the door. He was supposed to figure out what was wrong with her… and how, he had absolutely no idea. All he could think about was the way her fingers had latched into his shirt and the way her hair smelled so good and how disturbingly thin-framed she was.

So, completely at a loss, Gil just held her in silence, listening to her sobs gradually slow, and finally stop. That was when she sat back, dark hair hanging in her face as she swiped at her tears. Leaning past her, Grissom grabbed a tissue from the box, and he held it out to her. A little noise that he assumed was a 'thanks' passed her lips as she took it, pressing it over her face.

Blue eyes hovered on her expectantly, and after a few seconds, she was able to meet his gaze. "The bell rang already… shouldn't you go?" She was now twisting that tissue between her elegant fingers, and in his attempt to reassure her, he shook his head. "I don't want to keep you from your class… I'm sure the nurse will let you go now that I'm… I'm alright." Her bottom lip shook and he had the distinct feeling that she was _not_ okay, and that another wave of tears was going to-

And she was in his lap. Her arms snaked around his neck and she nuzzled her head to his shoulder, sniffling quietly. In the split second before a wave of tears overtook her, he heard her draw in a deep breath through her nose. He just sat there for a while, lips parted as he stared around, trying to find something that would tell him what to do in this situation. The binders and pill bottles and desk did nothing, so he went with what his instinct had told him to do- he wrapped his arms around her again, cradling her and letting her cry her eyes out into his shirt.

The younger student sucked in a deep breath after what felt like a small eternity, and Gil sighed, releasing her as she dabbed at her cheeks with the tissue.

"I'm sorry, Gil." She muttered, a bitter laugh passing her lips as she stared at the tissue. "I just… I don't know any of these women and…" She looked up at him slowly, seeing the utterly confused look in his eyes that he was trying so hard to hide. Another laugh, and she moved from his lap, rising and smoothing out her skirt a bit. "I'm sorry…" And she had disappeared through the door, leaving him to jump up in shock, but the nurse caught her.

"Woah now, Heather." Ah. Her name's Heather. "You can't just go-"

"I'm much better now, ma'am. Gil helped me out, and I'm alright to go back to class." She was a damned good actress, if you asked him, and for a second he thought that he had really helped her. But the truth was that he had done nothing but sit there.

"Well… if you're sure." The old woman released her arm, and Heather gave a little grin, completely avoided looking at Gil, and scurried out of the office. A pass was pushed at him and he hurried to class, more confused about women than he could ever remember being.

--

After school was always a very interesting time. People hurried to their buses and cars, except for a few people who would stand around and smoke, thinking that they looked so cool with the little white sticks hanging between their lips. Gil had gotten used to the horrible smell, and it actually became part of his every day experiences, something he expected and something that never confused him.

Like Heather had.

He'd walked out of the school after the bell, looking for her red hair and black clothes, seeing her pushing through the group toward a car that… well, he knew that it was shitty, but it had had a paint job and the windows looked knew, and the tires were near perfect. He knew that it was just a mask to make the buyer think that it was decent, and he heard the squeak of the door when Heather opened it that gave it away-

And in his analysis, he had forgotten the reason he was watching, and had to watch her ride off with a man he was fairly sure was her father. They had the same hair color, and the man was fairly thin- not as thin as Heather, but by no means built.

Sighing at himself, Gil pushed his hands into his pockets, turning and heading for the student parking lot. Locating his own little car, he got inside and turned the ignition, working his way between other cars and students who refused to move, finally reaching the road. Turning out of the parking lot, he headed home, deciding that this day was one he wasn't going to sleep after. That was going to go great with his anatomy test tomorrow.

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A/N:Uh, can _someone_ let me know if this story is even any good? If you guys don't like it then I won't worry about updating as often. xD Spring Break did start today, so I have oodles of free time that I could use on something else if you aren't interested by this story.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to TheseFilthyHands, who gave me a lovely review, which got me to write another chapter. I'll post another today as well, while the inspiration is fresh.

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Gil had never realized just how little seniors got to see the freshman, and if it weren't for the few minutes between classes, he was fairly certain he wouldn't have been able to notice that Heather was nowhere to be found. His work in the office proved his theory – she wasn't at school.

By the seventh day of this, he wasn't the only one worried.

He'd been seated in his uncomfortable chair in the file room, flicking through them in silence, focusing entirely on them to keep the gnawing thoughts of that certain freshman from his mind, but no matter how hard he tried, he saw the defeated look in her eyes… haunting him. What had happened to her? She was a fairly strong girl, he could tell, so it must have taken something-

Clearing his throat, he shook his head. _Focus, Gil. The files._

"Hey Gil?" One of the secretaries called to him, and he looked up after a moment, almost surprised to see her standing there. At his silence, she went on. "Do you know what happened with Heather? Is she alright?"

"I don't know her, ma'am." He replied – and it was the sad truth. He didn't know her, and he was worried sick about her and her absence.

"Oh… you two seemed to know each other when she was in here, so I just assumed… Is there any way you could find out where we need to send her file to?"

Send her file? Why were they getting rid of…

"She transferred schools?" He asked, feeling hurt though he hadn't a clue why.

"We received a letter today from her father that said she wasn't going to be attending school anymore." She held up a piece of paper, but didn't offer it to Gil. He understood that it was private, but there was a gnawing curiosity to see if there was a reason.

"I didn't know. I don't know… anything about it, I'm sorry." She merely nodded and disappeared from the doorway, leaving the young man to sit there, staring at where she had been. A rug had been ripped out from under him, but he didn't remember stepping onto it.

Moving on autopilot, he rose, and the files he'd been sorting were forgotten. He had a purpose… he had to find her file before they got rid of it. He'd find her address and stop by after school and figure out why she had dropped out.

--

The house was exactly like the car he had seen her father driving. Painted up to look gorgeous, but Gil Grissom was not an idiot. He knew that looks were horrendously deceiving, and judging by the near garishness of the way the porch was decorated, the truths of this house were more terrifying than even he wanted to know.

But, slowly, he moved up the white stairs to the porch. There were chairs and a big glass table, covered in a tablecloth, and plants. So many plants. Lining the half-wall that kept you from falling off the porch, a huge centerpiece on the table… _everywhere._

A hand rose to the screen door, which was painted white to match the floor of the porch(which bore no evidence of footprints, meaning it was cleaned daily), and after the slightest hesitation, he hit his knuckles against it three times.

Seconds dragged by like eternities, and while he waited, he became distracted by a spider that was crawling up the wall next to the door. Too distracted, actually, to notice that the white lace curtain that covered the window of the door had been swept aside slightly, and a pair of eyes had focused on him, then the curtain had dropped back down.

The door opened, and there she was, her pale face made all the more fragile looking by the darkness of the house behind her. It was the middle of the afternoon, but all of the windows were covered in white lace, and no lights were on at all.

"Gil," she muttered, and he was completely at a loss for what emotion it was. Shock, he assumed, that he knew where she lived, or maybe even anger that he had actually come by. Afterall, he hadn't the permission, nor the right, to invade her privacy like this.

His lips hung open for a moment, and then he pushed them shut, clearing his throat slightly, blue eyes flicking back to the spider as though it would turn and tell him what to say. It didn't, and the silence stretched on.

"Gil?"

"You dropped out." He blurted, raising his gaze to hers, and she frowned, nodding, now unable to meet his eyes.

"I… It was necessary. Mandatory. My father- … Um. He needs me to take care of him."

"So you gave up on your education?" He was unable to keep the shock from his voice, and it made her look back up.

"Yes." It was not what he expected, and again, he had the sensation of a rug being ripped out from under him, leaving him helpless and lost and feeling stupid.

"Oh… um… well, I guess that's all I w-"

"No it isn't." She interrupted him, and when he met her eyes again, he found amusement there. "You wouldn't have dug up my file if you just wanted to know if I had dropped out or not. You don't know my last name, Gil, how long did it take you to find me?"

He stared, and she waited. A few little squeaks were all he could get out by way of a response, and she laughed softly. The sound was extremely calming, and when she let it die off, he became very aware of every other sound around them.

It startled him when the door made a little click, and he moved back as she stepped through, her gaze on him. The skirt she wore today brushed the floor and would have concealed her bare feet were it not for the fact that the design filtered down to transparency at the hem. It was black, but he was not surprised, and the her top was tight and black as well.

One of herhands rose and she took hold of his arm, leading him down the stairs and taking him around to the back of the house, where a vast garden grew. In minutes, they were lost in the maze of it, but Heather seemed to either know where they were going, or not care that he had no idea where they were.


	4. Chapter 4

They walked in silence for a while, her hand in the hook of his elbow his main focus. He didn't know what she was thinking, where they were going… it made him nervous to not know what was going on, but at least she wasn't making him talk. This gave him time to think. Well, try to. It was nearly impossible to do so once that faintly familiar scent reached him. It wasn't anything specific, but it was _different_. It was her.

"You're a shy guy, aren't you, Gil?" She asked suddenly, turning her gray eyes up to him. He didn't look at her right away, but as soon as he found his answer, he met her eyes.

"If you know that, then why would you point it out?" Her smile was unexpected, and she stopped walking, facing him.

"I wasn't really pointing it out. I was looking for clarification as to why you aren't out with someone else… I wanted to know why you have time to be walking around my backyard with me, when others couldn't even spare the time to walk me to the office when I broke down." She spoke with brutal straight-forwardness, and he admired that for a moment, now understanding that she truly felt like the black clothes that she always wore.

"One day you're crying your eyes out, and then the next you're dropping out of school. Natural curiosity, I suppose." If she was embarrassed by his bringing up what had happened, she did not betray her emotions. Her eyes didn't leave him, though he found himself wishing that the piercing gaze would wander away.

"I have my reasons."

She may as well have said nothing, if you asked him, but before he could say anything, she had turned, and their silent walk continued.

Finally, the path dumped into a forest, and her hand left his arm. He took that as a sign to stop walking, but she took a few steps ahead.

"I used to hide here, Gil, back when I was younger. I thought hiding would help. That retreating somewhere would solve my problems." A pale hand rose and rested against the trunk of a tree she had stepped up to, then she turned, looking back over at him. "But you can't run away. I learned that."

The pointed way she said it made him raise an eyebrow, and he pushed his hands into his pockets. "I'm not running away from anything." Her lips twitched, fighting a smile, and she raised her head, the confidence that seemed to radiate off of her merely growing.

"No, not now. But I think if someone were to try to get close to you you would." Again, her bluntness caught him offguard, and he just stood there, staring back at her. "You're not going to argue?"

"I have no argument." His response was not the one she wanted, and she turned, her game obviously ruined for the moment. Heather's frame, which could not be described in one word, leaned against the tree she had just had her hand against, and he watched her pull a bit of her dark red hair over her shoulder to play with it.

"Do you ever wonder what went wrong with people, Gil?" She asked suddenly, and he was silent still, confused by her question. The silence made her turn again, and he knew he wasn't getting away from an answer this time.

The sound of crying came to his memory, and he winced suddenly, nodding. "I do." She stepped toward him, and he took the opportunity to study the way she moved. Grace wasn't the right word, though she was definitely not clumsy. She moved with an awareness of everything about her and everything around her, like she knew what a certain step would do with the way her skirt hung, or the way a certain dip of a hip would provide the slightest glance of her flat stomach. If she was trying to seduce him, which he suddenly felt that she was, then he was immensely thankful that he was himself. Any other male his age would have been eating out of her hand within seconds, but he prided himself on being able to keep his mind.

And then she was in front of him, and her gray eyes were flickering over his face, and that ability began to leave him. A hand ran up his arm, along his shoulder, and then she shifted up onto her toes, her entire arm draping over him. Her fingers were brushing his neck, right below his hairline, and he felt her breath against his neck as she leaned her head against him.

He didn't move, eyes wide like a deer in the bright lights of a car. No one invaded his space like this… but this was the second time she had done so. The last time hadn't been as nerve-wracking, as she'd been crying, and he felt the instinct to help her. But this… this wasn't necessary. It wasn't right… wasn't _fair!_ She _knew _everything that she did, knew his reaction better than even he did.

"You don't wear cologne." She suddenly muttered, and he felt every nerve that was in contact with her lips leap alive, the soft skin and warm air caressing his neck, mere millimeters from his pulse, which was thundering away.

Now, why she had pointed that out, he wasn't sure, and he wasn't sure if it was a question, so he said nothing. She drew in a breath and closed her eyes, and he felt the urge to scream out his frustration. He wanted this to stop… wanted to run away, as she had said she knew he would.

And suddenly, she jumped, and released him. Startled, he started to turn and see what had frightened her, but then her hand seized his wrist, and she tore off, dragging him behind her. Her pace indicated terror, but it was easy for him to keep up, seeing as how he was wearing shoes and she wasn't.

They ran for a few minutes, and then she stopped, grabbing his arms and giving him a hard shove at a patch of bushes. He fell right into them, finding that he landed on an old blanket, instead of dirt as he had expected. Pushing himself up, he started to ask what the hell was going on, but she wasn't facing him anymore. She'd turned back to face the direction they had run from, giving him a profile view of her.

Gil hadn't realized that his gaze had been distracted by the fast rise and fall of her chest until another figure suddenly burst into view, catching his attention. His head started to turn to see who it was, but the other man had moved so quickly that it wasn't necessary, and his hand grasped a fistful of Heather's dark hair, giving her a hard shake.

"What the hell are you doing out here?" He snarled, but Gil was more surprised by Heather's actions than by this man. She wasn't defending herself. She just stood there in his grip, her spine twisted at an angle because of his grip on her hair, her gray eyes meeting his easily even as he growled into her face. "And what have I told you about running from me?" He didn't go on, and Gil understood immediately that this had happened before, and that she was actually to answer his questions.

"That no one will take me in…" She answered, but her voice sounded the same as it did any other time. There was no sign of submission… merely acceptance.

"And?"

"And there's no where for me to go, so I may as well save my energy for…" Self-consciousness took over her mood, and she seemed incapable of finishing the sentence. Grissom was sure he didn't want to hear it-

"For _what_, Heather?" He pushed, his grip on her hair becoming white-knuckled.

"For you!" She finished with gusto, and Gil winced hard, realization hitting him harder than-

Than the smack that was delivered to one of her pale cheeks, the force of which was not only projected in the sound, but in the fact that she stumbled away from him, slid on the hem of her skirt, and crumpled to the ground.

Part of him expected the man to help her, but he turned, storming out of view. Gil just lay on his back, where he had fallen, horror paralyzing him.

Slowly, she pushed herself up, and when he started to rise to help her, she shot him a look that told him very clearly to stay where he was. She helped herself, and when she had gained back her composure, she moved over to him and sank down onto the blanket next to him.

The look he'd just received silenced him from inquiring if she was alright, and she seemed to have expected it, because she just sat there, rearranging her hair so it fell behind her shoulders as usual. Her ankles crossed, and she rested her hands in her lap, finally turning her eyes to him. A challenge lay there, but he didn't take it. Knew better than to take it.

His silence threw her off, and she faltered, then stood up sharply, grabbing his arm and hauling him up as well. Her strength was startling, really, and he opened his mouth to say that, but he was shut up quickly when her hand flashed up.

Indignantly, he seized her wrist before she actually hit him, and he immediately stepped back, knowing that this was over. Now.

No words were needed, and he turned away from her after releasing her, disappearing back along the path that they had taken to get there.


	5. Chapter 5

They hadn't left each other on the greatest of terms, so Gil was shocked beyond words when the young woman who had all but thrown him off her yard appeared just before sunset. He'd been out in the sand, working to extract a dead _something _from it's grave. He wasn't sure what it was, and would never find out.

Her hand grazed up his back, startling him and causing his hands to jerk, the scalpel in his right hand managing to snag on his left thumb, splitting it open. Hissing, he pushed it into his mouth, standing and turning… and he was rendered silent. The only sound was the crashing of waves as tide swept in -- she didn't say anything, and he used the excuse that his thumb was in his mouth to remain quiet as well.

When no words were exchanged, Gil turned to kneel back down and go back to the exhumation, only to feel her catch his arm by placing her hand in the hook of his elbow, the way she always did. There was a little pull, and he obliged, bringing his blue eyes back to her gray ones. The hand not on his arm raised to his wrist, and she pulled his hand away from his face. The sting of air against his cut caught his attention for a moment, but the realization of what was going to happen very quickly took over that worry.

She kissed him. A little more than a peck, but completely chaste and innocent, and when she pulled away, he felt oddly unembarrassed by it.

"I'm sorry, Gil." He had known what was coming the second her lips met his, and in all respects, he had deserved the apology. He'd done nothing to anger her that day, and she had attempted to hit him for it. Thus, Grissom did not attempt to say anything to excuse her, merely looking down at his thumb, watching blood ooze from the slice.

"It's good that your reflexes are fast, you know? If you'd let me hit you I'd never be able to face you again." She admitted, offering a little smile in her attempt to lighten the mood.

_Smile, dammit! This can get better if you just smile!_

Wiping the blood from his thumb on the hem of his shirt, he let the corners of his lips twitch up, and he met her gaze again.

"I used to play baseball with my dad." He gave the most vague explanation he could, and it seemed to work, because she bobbed her head in understanding, a little 'ah' making it's way past her lips. Which he suddenly noticed were painted dark red, and as soon as the thought hit him that it may have gotten on him, she raised a hand and pushed her thumb across his bottom lip, a smirk on her face.

"Not really your color." She joked, and they both chuckled, the mood between them lifting unmeasurably.

"I'll go put my kit away and get this cleaned, then we'll go for a walk, alright?" He suggested, kneeling and picking up his 'kit' of autopsy materials. She nodded, clasping her hands behind her back.

"I'll wait here."

"You can come in…"

"No, it's fine. I'll wait. I want to listen to the water." And she turned, once again granting him a profile view of her. Nodding, he dropped his gaze, making his way up toward his house.

--

On his way back down the slope, he observed her from behind, immediately noticing that she wasn't where he'd left her. She had stepped closer to the water, her hands were no longer clasped, and the sun hit her beautiful hair, creating quite an image for her. Fifteen years old, and yet she had the grace and poise of a queen.

She seemed unaware of him as he stepped up behind her. Only when his hand came up to lightly touch the small of her back did she acknowledge him. Her head tipped toward him, her gaze following a few seconds later. No words needed, the two turned and began their walk through the surf, Heather not noticing(or caring) that once in a while, a particularly forceful wave would roll in, soaking her feet and the few lower inches of her skirt.

Silence and the ocean and Heather.

The combination had Gil quite at east, so relaxed, in face, that he did not notice that his hand had remained against her back.

"I don't think you realize your own perfection, Gil." She rather suddenly observed, and his confused look make her smile. "You're perfect in a rare way, and no one has pointed it out because they don't know if perfect is the right word."

"I don't think it is."

"It is." She interrupted, her eyes flicking up to him for a moment. "You're not easily angered or offended… and you… you have a sort of innocence about you that confuses people who see your intelligence. In theory, someone as smart as you should _know_ but you hardly understand me." Gil wasn't sure what she meant that he was supposed to _know_ but she wasn't done yet, so he didn't ask. "I don't know if that's a choice or-" She broke off, a smile melting onto her face as she shook her head. "You're the exact opposite of my father."

That surprised him almost as much as her kiss had, and he looked down at her, the smile gone from her face.

"I guess I knew the moment my mother left that he'd ruin me to punish her." Bitterness came to her tone, and Gil realized they had stopped walking, her hand pushing to her abdomen. "He never stopped to think that she doesn't, never has, give a damn." Now his own hand rose and he pushed two fingers over her lips. She jerked away, stepping out of his reach. "I don't want to stop." Her voice shook, and Gil felt his chest tighten. Voicing what she wanted seemed to give her more power, and he had a gnawing feeling that this was the first time she was sure that he would let her have what she wanted.

Stepping up to him, she brought her hands to the sides of his face. "You have to help me, Gil. I need you to help me." The power she had earned shattered, and the girl -woman- who threw herself into his arms made him realize, right there on the beach, what perfection really was.

She didn't cry this time, merely clung to him like he held all of the answers and could make everything okay. And exactly like the last time, all he could do was stand there and hold her.


	6. Chapter 6

With all of the surprise visits over the next few weeks, Gil didn't know why he was caught offguard by his mother asking about Heather.

He was in the kitchen, up to his elbows in the bubbles from the dishes he was washing. She stepped up next to him, touched his arm for attention, and hands started flying.

'Tell me about her.' He wanted to fake her out… pretend that her hands had moved too fast, but she had seen him "talk" faster to his teacher, so he was trapped.

Sighing, he raised his soaked hands. 'She is a friend from school.'

'She's here every day.'

'Does it bother you?'

A pause as she studied him, then a smile. 'No, but I wish you had told me.' His confused look made her falter, and she raised an eyebrow at him. "You didn't notice that she's pregnant?" The sound of her slurred words startled him, but then the actual words she'd said sunk in… It felt like a stab to the chest. Several things that Heather had said made sense all of a sudden, and Gil all but dropped the plate he had picked up to clean. Drying his hands, he snatched up his car keys, nearly running from the house.

It was dark, but Gil didn't care about manners. He had to see Heather… had to find proof that his mother was wrong.

The odds were against him.

Storming up the white stairs, he slammed his knuckles against the door three times. Minutes dragged on, and he felt his temper slowly calming. Three more knocks.

Five minutes. Three knocks.

Finally, the door swung open, revealing Heather's father, who looked as though he had just rolled out of bed. A bed he had been quite actively sharing with someone else.

"Is… Can I speak with Heather, sir?"

"She's doing her chores." The man's voice was gruff and low, but that was nothing new to Gil.

"I just need a few minutes, sure. I need to ask her something." That mad the man behind the door growl softly, and he pushed the door open, stepping out to face the young man directly.

"She isn't allowed to have a boyfriend. N'yer too old for her anyway. Get off my porch."

"That's not-"

"I said go!"

They glared at each other for a moment, then something came to his face, and Gil wished that he had gone. He turned and walked inside, and Grissom turned to hurry away. He got halfway down the stairs when there came shouting, fighting, and then the screen door was shoved open.

"Gil-!" "Here she is, idiot."

He didn't turn around, knowing exactly what he would see if he did.

"What's wrong? Too embarrassed to see what she really is?"

"No sir. I just won't grant you the pleasure of humiliating her." Without looking back, Gil walked to his car, got in, and drove home.


End file.
